


Perceptions

by kat_fanfic



Category: Star Trek: Voyager
Genre: Chakotay And Tom Talk, Competent Tom Paris, Fluff and Angst, Hurt Tom Paris, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Pre-Slash, Space Battle, Talking, set in season one
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-08
Updated: 2019-04-08
Packaged: 2020-01-06 23:23:50
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,285
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18398459
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kat_fanfic/pseuds/kat_fanfic
Summary: Chakotay looked down at the unconscious man he was holding, heart pounding in his chest. Tom’s head lolled on his chest, and he was so pale, Chakotay could see the blue veins under his closed eyes. The old churning of anger, betrayal and frustration that he’d come to associate with Tom Paris was somehow dissipating, now that losing him was a very real possibility.





	Perceptions

**Author's Note:**

> Hand-waving, Technobabble and medical nonsense inside. Call it creative license. :)

The explosion rocked _Voyager_. Tom barely managed to stay in his seat, clinging to the console in front of him while simultaneously guiding the ship into a series of evasive maneuvers. 

“Status report.” The Captain never raised her voice, its natural authority carrying despite the clamor of battle doing its best to drown her out.

“Shields at 84 percent,” Harry answered promptly. “No word yet from Engineering.”

“Phasers are still offline, Captain,” Tuvok added, “but I’ve managed to regain manual control over the photon torpedoes. Limited range only.” 

“Understood. Fire at will, Lieutenant-Commander.” Janeway was grim as she gave the order, never one to take lives lightly. 

The Kazon ships had come out of nowhere, hiding in a cluster of meteoroids emanating a natural energy field that disrupted _Voyager_ ’s sensors. It would have been the perfect ambush but somehow, Chakotay had seen it coming. He’d managed to warn Tom just in time for him to sharply bank _Voyager_ out of weapons range before more than the first volley could hit them.

They’d have been a sitting duck if it weren’t for the Commander, but _Voyager_ hadn’t escaped the sudden attack unscathed. The warp drive was down, limiting Tom to dodge the Kazon with impulse speed only, and their proximity to the cluster meant that he was flying the ship basically blind. Short-distance sensors helped a little, but they tended to fritz out unexpectedly, so Tom had taken to use the viewscreen almost exclusively. 

Seeing something out of the corner of his eye, Tom threw the ship to the side, almost forcing her into a full roll. The inertia dampeners groaned under the added pressure, and Tom gulped back nausea. He could practically feel the hit. Not a direct one, he’d managed to avoid that, but the shields sure were taken a beating. 

“Shields down to 50 percent,” Harry called out, as if to prove his point.

Tom grimaced, mentally apologizing to his ship for the abuse. “Come on, B’Elanna,” he murmured, sweat dripping into his eyes. “Get me that warp drive.” He used a one-sided thrust-burst to let _Voyager_ skirt in between the two Kazon ships, momentarily rendering them unable to fire without being in danger of hitting each other.

Janeway’s voice floated up to him. “That’s it, Tom, keep them engaged.” She sounded distracted, but then she was probably doing twelve things at once. 

He chuckled, using the short respite to wipe his eyes clear. “Doing my best, Captain. Gotta give it to them though, they’re tenacious.”

As if conjured, one of the Kazon battle cruisers suddenly bloomed up directly in front of them, almost filling the viewscreen completely. 

“Shit!” Tom forced _Voyager_ in full reverse, banking her to the side and up, at the last second pushing her forward with full impulse. The proximity alarm blasted his ears and he heard Tuvok call out a warning as the Vulcan used the chance to fire. 

There was a quarter second of pure tension, and then Tom whooped as the manually-guided torpedo found its mark, the Kazon ship exploding in a bright, but brief ball of fire. Instantly, alarms began to blare, adding to the cacophony of battle noises. 

Checking his console, Tom cursed again. Turning _Voyager_ away from the blast, he called out a quick, “Harry, we need more energy on the rear deflectors, or we’re gonna get spiked by debris.”

“Rerouting energy from the navigational systems,” Harry acknowledged, only a slight hint of nervousness ringing through.

“Good thinking. Those are useless anyway, right?” Tom snorted, throwing his friend a grin over his shoulder. 

Harry’s answering smile seemed forced, but at least some of the tension seemed to leave his shoulders. “Just temporarily, I promise.”

“Eyes front, Paris, before you get us all killed.” The order came from directly behind him and made him stop short. The casual disregard in Chakotay’s voice was like a punch to the gut. 

Tom snapped his eyes toward the viewscreen, every trace of amusement gone. “Aye, Sir,” he said, carefully keeping his tone as neutral as possible. It seemed that no matter what he did, he always managed to incur the man’s wrath somehow, when all he really wanted to do was impress him. 

Strange, that it had been the same with his father.

Thankfully, Tom didn’t have much time to dwell on the fact that the man he’d been low-key in love with for years didn’t even seem to like him much. Battles were a good distraction from heartache, had to give them that. 

“Give us a countdown, Ensign Kim,” Janeway said, still sounding eerily calm.

“The debris field will hit us in five seconds.” 

Opening a channel, Janeway belted out a firm, “All decks, prepare for impact!”

“Three,” Harry called out. “Two. Impact!”

The ship bucked hard. Tom barely stayed in his seat, clinging to his station like a tick on a Telarian waterkrag. There was a hissing sound in his ears that he imagined were their poor, battered deflectors desperately trying to hold off the deadly debris. 

“Deflectors are stable, but shields are down to 12 Percent,” Harry reported, sounding grim. “They’re barely holding, Captain. Structural damage on decks 12, 16 and 19, all contained.”

“Sickbay reports several injuries, two of them critical. No casualties,” Chakotay added.

Tom knew that Janeway would appreciate the additional information and approved of them, and yet, he couldn’t help but feel envious of the encouraging tone in which they were said.

“Captain,” B’Elanna’s voice suddenly sounded over the Comm, almost yelling over the sounds of frantic activity in Engineering. “I’ve rerouted all available backup power to the shields, so they’re boosted up to 44 Percent.”

“Good work, Lieutenant. Any news on the phasers or the warp drive?”

“No chance on the warp drive,” B’Elanna answered, sounding both angry and apologetic – her default mood when someone hurt _Voyager_. “The core’s internal shielding is compromised. I had to power it down or risk a complete meltdown.”

She barked out some stern orders, making Tom grin at her creative choice of words. “Phasers are still offline and will be as long as we need all the powers for the shields.” 

“Understood,” Janeway acknowledged. 

“I recommend we blast those three-cursed Kazon to hell while we still can. Torres out.”

“You heard her, Lt. Tuvok.” Janeway sounded grimly amused. 

“Aye, Captain,” the Vulcan answered.

Sudden movement on the screen had Tom swearing again, hands flying over the controls. “We got a Bogey incoming,” he called out, a mere moment before they were hit by a full blast. _Voyager_ ’s hull screeched as it was breached in several places, the ship groaning under the impact. 

An energy surge had Harry call out a warning, right before the console to Tom’s right blew open, raining him in a shower of sparks and bits of metal. Tom threw his hands up, cursing out loud as the ship swerved unsteadily. 

He heard someone call out his name - huh, was that Chakotay? – but he had no time to check. 

“I’m alright,” he gasped, even as a sharp pain in his side had him groan in agony. Tom ruthlessly ignored it. “Oh, you made me mad now,” he hissed, diverting the controls from the now useless terminal to the other flight systems. 

Checking the sensors, Tom grimaced at the nonsense data he received. “Where are you?” he murmured, scanning the viewscreen for the second Kazon ship. He felt the Commander at his shoulder but tried to ignore him. 

“I’m gonna try to give you an opening, Tuvok.” Sending a quick message to Tuvok’s station, Tom began to coax his poor Lady into an elaborate evasive maneuver he’d learned in the Maquis. “You remember this one?”

“I do, Mr. Paris,” came the prompt reply. Sometimes Tuvok’s time as a spy among the Maquis came in handy. “On your mark.”

Chakotay braced himself on the back of Tom’s chair and leaned in close. Tom was half-expecting a reprimand, but instead, the Commander murmured, “Keep the Kazon ship’s gravitational pull in mind,” in his ear.

“Yeah,” Tom breathed, re-calculating his approach angle. 

The ship moved like a dream under his hands, dodging and weaving as he commanded. “Get ready, Tuvok,” Tom murmured, counting on superior Vulcan hearing. He brought the ship around in a daring half-turn, revving up the landing thrusters for an extra boost that instantly brought the advancing Kazon ship in proximity of their limited torpedo range. The moment Chakotay’s hand fell on his shoulder, Tom shouted: “Fire!”

“Torpedoes away,” Tuvok announced less than a second later. 

Tom didn’t wait to see if they would find their target. Going to full impulse, he entered a manual course that brought them away from the Kazon ship and closer to the Asteroid cluster. 

“Direct hit,” Harry announced, sounding as if he wanted to pump his arm. “The Kazon ship is still intact, but their weapons system is down, as is their warp drive.”

Tom snorted. “Welcome to the club.”

The Captain gave a low chuckle, which happened to be Tom’s favorite. “Well, I for one am not planning to be in the club for long, Lieutenant,” she commented. “Any idea if there are any other surprises lying in wait?”

Tom could practically hear Harry’s grimace. “Long-range sensors are still compromised, Captain, but maybe if we get some distance between us and them…?”

“No can do, Harrio,” Tom mumbled, managing to coax some usable telemetry data from the stream of clutter on his console. “Quite the opposite.”

“Lieutenant? What do you mean by that?” 

Tom dimly heard the Commander ask the question and he shook his head to clear the cobwebs from his mind, choosing a larger rock and guiding Voyager in a close, stable orbit using the asteroid’s micro-gravity. 

“Where are you taking us?” Chakotay was so close Tom could feel the warmth of his body on his shoulder.

“Little hidey-hole,” he murmured, wondering why everything was going blurry. “Inside the cluster. Sensor blackout.”

“That’s actually not a bad idea, Captain,” Harry said. “Even if the Kazon call for reinforcements, they won’t be able to detect us inside the cluster, hopefully giving us enough time to repair the warp drive.”

Tom wanted to say something, anything, but there was darkness encroaching on him from all sides. Pain radiated from his middle, and now that the immediate danger was over, he had trouble staying in his seat. 

Half-turning in his seat, he tried to get Chakotay’s face in focus. “I think,” he croaked, trying to brace against the weakness, “I think I might need…“ He trailed off as all of a sudden, the ground rushed up to meet him, and all Tom could see was black.

 

* * * * 

Chakotay suppressed a startled curse as Tom’s body suddenly went limp, tumbling towards him. “Spirits”, he exclaimed, somehow managing to catch the man, going down with him. They landed in a heap, with Chakotay sort of cradling Tom. 

From his position he could see that the pilot’s seat was glistening darkly. “Captain,” he began, voice hoarse with worry, but she was already there, kneeling down beside them.

“Tom?” She asked, voice gentle yet demanding. “Tom, can you hear me?” Her hands slid over the dark part of Tom’s uniform, coming away dark with blood. “Shrapnel”, she murmured. “He’s losing too much blood. Harry, please tell me that the site to site transports are working.”

Risking a quick glance towards the Ensign, Chakotay saw him swallow hard. “They’re offline, Captain, but B’Elanna’s already working on it.”

Janeway nodded. “Tell her to hurry.” She grabbed the bridge’s emergency medical kit, pulling out the basic tissue regenerator. She ripped open Tom’s uniform just above his hips, revealing a nasty, jagged wound that was bleeding sluggishly. A piece of metal the size of Chakotay’s hand fell down as Janeway moved to apply the regenerator. “Must have come loose when he lost consciousness,” she murmured, more to herself than to Chakotay, “or he’d have bled out already.”

Chakotay looked down at the unconscious man he was holding, heart pounding in his chest. Tom’s head lolled on his chest, and he was so pale, Chakotay could see the blue veins under his closed eyes. The old churning of anger, betrayal and frustration that he’d come to associate with Tom Paris was somehow dissipating, now that losing him was a very real possibility. 

“Can you take over here?” The Captain looked torn. Her gaze raced around the bridge and then back to Tom, her duties as Captain of a damaged starship warring with her desire to stay with her wounded crewman. 

Chakotay nodded, taking over the regenerator. “I’ve got him.”

She sent him a searching look, absently pushing blond strands back from Tom’s forehead, a maternal gesture that touched something deep within him. 

“Kathryn,” he murmured, just loud enough for her to hear. “I won’t let him die.”

Her smile was brief. “Don’t make promises you can’t keep, Chakotay.” She was up and gone before he could form a reply, but her very real pain at the thought of losing Tom echoed within him. He respected her more than he ever had anyone, so what was it about Tom Paris that made her see worth where he himself had only ever seen a traitor?

Before he could come up with an answer, Tom stirred in his arms, groaning in pain. Chakotay tightened his hold. “Try not to move,” he murmured. 

Tom blinked up at him. “Ch’kotay?” he breathed. “Wh’happened?” 

“You got skewered by an exploding console.” Tom wouldn’t appreciate him sugarcoating it, he knew that much about the man. “We closed the wound for now, but it’s only a surface seal to keep you from bleeding until we can get you to sickbay.”

Nodding, Tom pulled a face. “Piece o’ shit fly apart ‘round us again?” he huffed, moving his legs restlessly. “Told ya it wouldn’t hold up during another skirmish, Cap.”

Chakotay froze. This wasn’t Tom the Starfleet officer talking. Somehow, in his injury-addled mind, Tom had reverted to his Maquis self, flashing back to the brief time they’d been in the same cell. The _Val Jean_ had been the _Ce Acatl_ then, and Tom had been her pilot for a hot minute. “Maybe,” Chakotay murmured, playing along for the moment, “if you wouldn’t call my ship a piece of shit all the time, she’d be nicer to you.”

“Never be nice ta me,” Tom murmured. He was breathing heavily, sweat beading on his forehead. “She favors her Cap’n and since he thinks I’m a screw-up…” He gave a slight, one-shouldered shrug. “It was an ill-fated love affair from the start.”

And damn the spirits, but Chakotay had no idea if Tom was talking about the ship, or _him_. 

He shifted a little, trying to get some circulation going in his legs and watched the controlled chaos of a regrouping crew around them. “I don’t think you’re a screw-up,” he finally said, a little gruff. He was still stunned by his shifting emotions, by the way his perception was changing about someone he’d categorized and written off long ago. 

“Sure you do.” Tom was peering up at him through the bangs of tousled blond hair that had again fallen into his eyes. “Ya don’t have to pretend just ‘cause I’m dying, ‘Kotay.”

Chakotay’s heart seized in his chest. “You’re not dying.”

Tom shuddered, a grunt forcing its way past his tightly closed lips. “Sure feels like it,” he groaned, hands balling into fists as he fought the pain. 

Chakotay grimaced and activated his combadge. “Chakotay to Engineering.”

“I’m still working on the transporters, Commander.” B’Elanna’s voice was harried. “They got screwed up good, but I should have them working in a few minutes.”

Chakotay let out a sharp breath of frustration and helplessness. He threw a quick look at the Captain, seeing her hard at work with Harry and Ayala to get _Voyager_ functioning again, just like everyone else was. “Transport us to sickbay as soon as you do,” he urged, letting her hear his emotions. 

There was a short pause. “I understand, Chakotay. Torres out.”

Chakotay looked down at Tom. He contemplated going against his limited field medic training – every Maquis had to have at least a basic understanding of first aid regardless of rank or position – and give Tom some painkillers. Chances were, though, that the pain was all that kept Paris conscious and semi-aware, and he couldn’t risk letting him slip into a coma – or worse.

“Hey,” he murmured, reaching up to press his palm to Tom’s collarbone. “You know the rules, flyboy. No dying on my watch.”

Tom snorted softly. “Rules, right.” He had to catch his breath after every word but soldiered on, despite how the strain made him tremble in Chakotay’s grip. “Always knew y’ had delusions of grandeur.” He even had the audacity to grin at Chakotay.

Chakotay shook his head. Not too long ago, he’d have called how Tom was behaving stubborn and willful, Chakotay mused, but now all he saw was someone so used to fighting that giving up just wasn’t a viable option for them. Though for vastly different reasons, he could very much relate to that.

He tapped Tom’s chest. “I didn’t make the rules myself, you know, you always had that wrong. Besides, it’s not like they’re unreasonable.”

“I guess. Th’ one about not dying’s a bit preposterous, tho.”

Despite the circumstances, Chakotay couldn’t help but be amused. “Preposterous, huh? Any other complaints about how I’m running my ship, Paris?” 

Tom heaved a shuddering sigh. “Nah. Never minded th’ rules. Kinda even liked th’ one about being family.”

Leaning close to hear the quiet words, Chakotay murmured, “Oh?” It had been a personal decision to shape his cell into a sort of family unit. While losses cut deeper, he found that the benefits of that close bond outweighed the negatives. 

Tom’s eyes were closing, and he was ashen, the specks of blood on his skin looking abnormally red. He sighed, his next words barely audible. “I’ve jus’ always wished it extended t’ me.” 

In the couple of seconds it took Chakotay’s mind to get over the sheer impossibility of those words, Tom slipped away, breath stuttering in his chest before stopping completely.

“Tom? Tom! Lieutenant!” Chakotay was aware that he was shouting, shaking the pilot as if he could force the life back inside him. “Damnit, Paris, don’t you do this!”

Growling, Chakotay slid out from underneath the man’s dead weight, grabbing a hypo spray from the med kit, loading it with a vial of cordrazine and administering it to Tom’s neck. No response. There wasn’t a cardiac stimulator included in the kit – apparently it took a lot of skill to get the desired result without frying the patient’s insides – so he was fat out of options that didn’t require a more hands-on approach. 

“Come on,” he shouted, bending down to check if the pilot was breathing on his own. He felt more than saw Janeway appearing beside him, a glance revealing her face to be pale and grim.

“You will jot die on me,” Chakotay barked at the prone man, his hands hovering over his chest. “Don’t make me break my promise to the Captain, Paris.” No reaction, not that he’d seriously expected one. Apparently, not even Tom’s unwavering loyalty to Kathryn Janeway was powerful enough to get him back from the brink of death. 

“Commander…” The Captain’s voice was brittle. 

He didn’t want to know what she had to say, didn’t want to give her the chance to order him to stand down, not when he’d just had his previous notions about the pilot shattered and assembled anew. There was so much he had to say, and ask, and make right, it wasn’t fair to have all that snatched away just like that…

When the familiar tingle of a transporter beam broke through his frantic thoughts, Chakotay looked up and the last he saw of the bridge was the wild hope on Kathryn’s face. 

 

* * * *

 

It took the EMH all of thirty seconds to heal the internal damage the console shrapnel had caused in Tom’s body. “Next time,” he said as he let the diagnosis panel slide back into the biobed, “do try to get patients with life-threatening wounds to me before they go into cardiac arrest.” He looked at Chakotay as if he alone was responsible for the delay in treatment.

Chakotay huffed in amusement, scrubbing a weary hand over his face. “I’ll do my best, Doc.”

“Good. That being said,” the EMH completed his scan and nodded approvingly, “you did do an adequate job treating the Lieutenant long enough for me to be able to save his life.”

“Thanks.” Chakotay acknowledged a little sarcastically. Sometimes it was difficult to deal with the Holodoc’s snarky attitude. “So, he’s going to make a full recovery?”

The Doctor gave a satisfied, if haughty, nod. “Of course he will. After all, Lt. Paris’s injuries would hardly have been life-threatening, had he been brought to me right away. As it is, I expect him to awaken soon. Please make sure that he does not try to get up yet, although I’m sure that will be a difficult task. We are talking about Mr. Paris after all.” He huffed. “Now, if you’ll excuse me, Commander, I have other patients to see.” 

Chakotay nodded, quite relieved to not be the Doctor’s primary target any longer. “Should ask B’Elanna to install a bedside manner subroutine,” he murmured, once again checking Tom’s stats. Everything was fine, of course, but he couldn’t help himself. 

It had been a close thing, reviving Paris. Despite all the medical advances the combined Federation species had made, there still wasn’t much that could be done once brain damage set in. The Doctor had been able to stave off any ramifications in Tom’s case, but Chakotay was very eager to have that diagnosis confirmed by the man in question. Only an awake Tom could ease his mind. 

Thankfully, he didn’t have to wait long. True to the EMH’s prediction, it took only a few minutes for Tom to wake. The moment he stirred, Chakotay was leaning over him, watching carefully as Tom slowly opened his eyes. He blinked against the glare of the sickbay lights, a small sound of distress escaping. 

Chakotay turned the lights down, smiling as Tom murmured a soft “thank you”. 

“Don’t mention it,” he answered, once Tom’s eyes had focused on him. “Welcome back.”

Tom blinked up at him with a confused frown. “Commander.” His voice was raspy, and he had to clear his throat a few times before it worked properly. “What happened?”

It was an eerie parallel to what had happened earlier, only this time, Tom seemed to be fully aware of where - and when - he was. Still, with his tousled hair and the confusion in his wide blue eyes, he didn’t look much like the cock-sure pilot that regularly drove Chakotay to the brink of violence. 

“You were injured on the bridge,” Chakotay explained. He wasn’t overly worried that Tom didn’t remember everything, it was to be expected after a trauma like this. 

Tom nodded, his right hand wandering to the place where the wound had been. “The console exploded,” he murmured. Suddenly, he shot up, almost falling off the biobed in his haste. “The Kazon! We have to hide _Voyager_ -“

Grabbing a hold of him, Chakotay gently forced him back onto the bed. “Tom, you need to calm down. We’re safe, the ship is safe, thanks to you. You managed to get us safely inside the asteroid cluster before you collapsed.”

It took a moment for that to sink in. When it did, Tom slumped back so suddenly, Chakotay had to tighten his hold on him. “’m woozy,” he murmured, shaking his head as if to clear it.

“That’s probably the adrenaline leaving your system.” Chakotay considered calling the EMH to check up on Tom, but he didn’t seem to be in any pain and the biobed stats still showed normal stats. “Give it a minute and it should pass. The Doc said you’re to stay in bed a while longer, but there shouldn’t be any lasting after-effects.”

Tom nodded. He seemed unaware of the fact that he was leaning against Chakotay rather than the biobed.   
Or maybe he just chose to ignore it, the Commander amended a moment later, when Tom slowly let his head fall back until it came to rest on his shoulder. “Can I ask you something?” he murmured.

Chakotay shifted Tom around a little, just enough to be able to see his face. “Of course.”

Tom looked down, to where Chakotay’s hand was wrapped gently around his wrist. “Why are you here?”

Taken aback, Chakotay didn’t answer right away. Of course Tom would be confused about his presence - after all, he’d never before had made it a habit of visiting the man in sickbay on the few occasions he’d been hurt in the past. And chances were that he had no idea what he’d said to Chakotay on the bridge, what he’d revealed in the moments before his heart stopped. “I was resuscitating you when the emergency beam-out finally came through,” Chakotay finally answered honestly, if a bit vague. 

“Sure.” Tom didn’t seem all that disturbed by the fact that he’d had a close call, though Chakotay was sure that it would hit him later. “Doesn’t explain why you stayed, though.”

Chakotay shook his head, very aware of that. “I wanted to make sure you were alright,” he answered carefully. “Is that so hard to believe?”

“Yeah, it kinda is, to be honest.” Tom pressed his lips together for a moment and frowned. He’d pulled back from Chakotay, leaning against the wall instead of him. “I mean, the Doc already told you I would make it, that’s your Commanderly duty fulfilled right there. It’s a little weird, having you here, being all friendly and cordial. I’m kind of waiting for the other shoe to drop.”

Grimacing, Chakotay could very well see where that thought stemmed from. “No shoe-dropping, Tom, I promise. Maybe I just wanted to make sure I would have a chance to get to know you better, have you considered that?”

“But why would you, though?” Tom asked, honestly perplexed. “I didn’t even think you liked me much, why go to the trouble?”

“There has been a time where I probably would have agreed with that, but,” Chakotay hesitated. “I’m beginning to realize that I might not know you well enough to be sure of that.” 

“Huh.” Tom glanced at Chakotay, eyes unreadable. “Might have been a time,” he repeated slowly. “You mean, like this morning?”

There was nothing Chakotay could do to stop the flush of embarrassment from showing on his face as he remembered the harsh reprimand he’d voiced. “Yeah,” he murmured, “that’s actually something I wanted to address with you. That comment I made was uncalled for, and if you want to issue a formal complaint- “

Tom waved him off before he could complete the sentence. “Don’t worry about it, Commander. It was a high-stress situation, I get it.” 

“That’s very generous of you, Tom, but I’m sure the Captain will have a word or two to say about that as soon as things have calmed down a little.” 

“Uh-oh.” Tom gave him a half-smile. “Not used to being in trouble, huh, Commander?”

Chakotay snorted. “I try not to make it a habit, no. And my name is Chakotay, might as well use it occasionally.”

There was that look again, a mix of surprise and suspicion, but all Tom said was, “sure. Chakotay.”

He nodded, satisfied for the moment. “That was some flying you did there,” he commented, apropos of nothing. 

Tom’s lips twitched into a grin. “Yeah, well,” he mumbled, “I learned from the best, chief.” 

The old Marquis nickname caught him off-guard. Chakotay stilled, but for once, the familiar wave of anger didn’t come. “I taught you nothing about flying you didn’t already know,” he said, gauging Tom’s reaction to the sincere words.

The man’s eyes widened, and he looked so astonished, Chakotay felt almost embarrassed by it. Humor and teasing banter were an integral part of how Tom coped, but he’d noticed that the man seldom did it with him – except maybe to wind him up. He could clearly see why now. After all, while their work relationship was cordial, he had never encouraged Tom’s more playful side, not like the Captain had on multiple occasions. Maybe it was time to change that. 

Tom cleared his throat. He didn’t quite seem to know what to make of Chakotay’s changed attitude toward him. “I guess. But it sure wasn’t Starfleet tactics that saved our collective asses today.” 

“Sure,” Chakotay conceded. “Still wouldn’t have made it with anyone but you at the helm.”

Tom shrugged, looking pleased and strangely shy. He picked at the thin blanket covering his lower half, stifling a yawn. “Hey, do you think the Doc will let me go today? I hate spending the night in sickbay.” His nose wrinkled and he half-yawned again.

Charmed, Chakotay smiled. “Any specific reason?” he asked, for the first time since their early Maquis days acknowledging the fact that he was very much attracted to Tom Paris. 

In the past, he had never acted on it, too sure that Tom wouldn’t be a partner he could respect and – love. And now that he’d finally taken off the blinders, Chakotay was almost taken aback by his own eagerness to find out if that was even remotely true.

Tom didn’t notice his distraction, busy as he was ticking off reasons to hate sickbay on his fingers. “It always smells funny in here and there’s always someone coming to see the Doc no matter what time it is, and the Doc never lets you just replicate what you want to eat and always brings you, like, the worst stuff, and you can’t really hear the warp core from here, and- “

“Wait, wait, wait,” Chakotay interrupted, grinning widely. He felt almost giddy with what he was discovering about his own feelings for this man. “Did you just say that you can’t hear the warp core from sickbay?”

Tom flushed, the tips of his ears turning a brilliant red. “Um,” he hedged. “No?”

“Oh, yes, you did,” Chakotay chuckled. “That’s perfect, wait till I tell the Captain about her chief helmsman letting _Voyager_ lull him to sleep. She’ll love it.”

“Oh man,” Tom complained, glaring good-naturedly at Chakotay. He was slowly sliding down until he was lying flat on the biobed. “I really need to rethink that whole being on good terms with you deal. I didn’t bank on you tattling every little thing I do to the Captain, Chakotay.”

He grinned, inordinately pleased with their easy rapport. “Don’t worry, Tom,” he murmured, leaning in a little. “I’ll only tell her the adorable things.”

The look Tom shot at him was half-pleased, half-disbelieving. He snorted softly. “Maybe the EMH should check you out as well,” he murmured, eyes sliding closed, words slurring together as exhaustion slowly overtook him. “Sounds to me like there’s something wrong with your perception. Adorable, my ass.” A moment later, he was asleep, snoring softly.

Pulling up the blanket so that it covered him completely, Chakotay let his hand rest on the man’s collarbone, just as he’d done on the bridge. “I’ll be back later,” he murmured, already looking forward to it. It was amazing how fast things could change. For once, he considered that to be a positive thing. 

With a secret smile and a new spring in his step, Chakotay headed for the bridge. After all, he had a Captain to cheer up.


End file.
